


Great News

by fourfreedoms



Series: The Incompetent Matchmakers [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Crack Fic, M/M, outside pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 06:30:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17862116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourfreedoms/pseuds/fourfreedoms
Summary: “‘Oh, what an honor it’ll be to be on an original six team. Oh, Chicago is such a wonderful city.’ Who was here to warn us we’d be losing all the time because the captain and Kane won’t bang?”“You’ve really made several logical leaps there,” Dylan says.A tale of incompetent matchmakers.





	Great News

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reserve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reserve/gifts).



> This is...probably the most ridiculous thing I've ever written? Honestly I didn't even want to post it, but It's all coffeekristen's fault. Also reserve, for having a birthday and for liking it enough to make me continue. 
> 
> I'm sorry I didn't finish it in time! I hope this belated eclair of a fic brings you some birthday joy.

It’s been a season and a half, he’s played 135 games in the pros, and Alex is working on a theory. It goes like this: Kane and Toews are soulmates. Now he would hardly call himself the matchmaking type, far be it from him to tell people who they should date. He has better things to worry about—his own girlfriend, and his dog, and his play for starters. But there’s matchmaking and then there’s plain as the nose on your face. He doesn’t think the world will end if they don’t get together. They’re like, old now, into their 30s and they seem pretty chill with life, so it’s obviously fine. But he’s not fucking crazy. It’s obviously there. He doesn’t understand how more people on the team aren’t side-eying them going ‘K THAT’S WEIRD BEHAVIOR,’ because it is. 

_Kane & Toews Are “Weird” - A Case Study. _

1\. It’s a Tuesday, getting ready for morning skate. Kaner is done using a roll of sock tape. He tosses it up into the air without looking. This is strange behavior. Surely the equipment guys have things to say about this. But then it drops into a neat arc, falling perfectly into Tazer’s palm. Tazer does not even look up. He starts using the tape on himself. This and similar is a regularly observed occurrence. 

2\. Last season on a Friday before a game in Arizona. They’re at team lunch, Jonny has an absolutely horrid brown looking shake at his elbow that they can’t stop ribbing him for. 

“You couldn’t make me take a sip of that for 500 bucks,” Hartsy says. Which is sane. People shouldn’t put stuff that looks like lumpy brown shit into their mouths. 

“Pussy,” Tazer replies pleasantly. 

Kaner leans over and snags the smoothie. This is perhaps not a shock. He likes winning bets. 

“Ooh, strawberry,” he says after taking a sip. He takes another contemplative sip. “Did you ask them for their overripe bananas?” 

“That’s the way you like it,” Tazer replies absently as he cuts his sweet potatoes into small neat bites.

“Pay up,” Kaner says to Hartsy with a grin. 

Now here is the question, is the smoothie for Kaner? Or did Tazer get it the way Kaner liked because he knew Kaner would drink some. A quandary!

3\. The lemon water. 

It could be said that Kaner is high-maintenance. He’s heard stuff from the guys, and he’s observed it first hand. Kaner likes his things to be particular. He’s not a jerk about it, and he’s obviously earned the right to demand whatever he wants with both his play and the way he’s always been unselfish in the lineup. That said, the fact that it’s apparently Jonny who initially started putting lemons in his water to get him to drink more of it and now it’s just a thing they do for him, blows the mind. 

“Will you put lemons in _my_ water?” Alex teases Tazer one afternoon as they’re stripping off pads in the locker room, expecting to embarrass him. 

Tazer looks over at him. “Sure, good source of vitamin c, helps the digestive health, and maintaining the body’s pH balance.” 

“Yo, lemons are my thing, squirt,” Kaner says. “Get your own thing.” 

Jonny shrugs with a chuckle. “Guess not.” 

Conclusion: Alex is not insane, these two are weird, everybody else on the team must be blind and stupid. A tragedy. 

*

“Maybe this is the reason we can’t buy a win,” he tells Dylan when he gets traded. Not the first thing, congratulations was in there somewhere, and also if you need a place to crash, you can stay at mine. But it’s pretty soon afterwards, when they’re playing video games after Dylan’s first moved in. He has to tell somebody! Any other time he’s tried to suggest that maybe something is going on between Kane and Toews to the other guys on the team, they’ve all just laughed it off or acted like Alex is the nuts one. Which, pardon? What? How is it normal that Kaner knows more about Tazer than his actual girlfriend. 

“Oh just longtime teammates, you know?” Seabs says. 

“So Duncs knows more about you than your wife?” Alex replies, miffed. It is only later that he realizes this was perhaps not the best person to ask. How do you get normal answers from a guy who keeps his best friend’s teeth on the mantle next to his other trophies?

“You think the team is having trouble because Kane and Toews are soulmates?” Dylan asks, blinking. 

“Thwarted soulmates!” Alex replies, coming back to the present. 

“Ooooookay,” Dylan says, pausing Call of Duty, “I think you’ve had too much Monster to drink and it’s time for bed.” 

“You’ll see,” Alex tells him, jabbing a shaky finger at him. He looks down at his hand and the way he can’t keep it steady. Hmm. It is quite possible Dylan is right and he had about three too many of these. But still: “Mark my words!” 

*

It’s another team lunch when the next offense happens. Initially, Alex doesn’t even notice. Probably because he’s become inured to Kaner and Tazer’s ultimate weirdy-beard behavior. But he’s distracted from his green beans when he catches sight of Dylan’s unexpectedly pop-eyed look. He follows his gaze to see Kaner standing behind Jonny, chatting with Jeremy. Now that could all be innocent and normal, except Tazer is using Kaner as a headrest, leaning back against his stomach while he scrolls through his phone. And then Kaner reaches down and starts kneading Tazer’s left shoulder, without even a break in his conversation. 

Tazer groans and says, “Fuck, right there,” and tilts to give Kaner more access, rolling the crown of his head across Kaner’s belly. 

Dylan meets his gaze wide-eyed across the table. “I told you,” Alex mouths with a pronounced flourish of his fork. 

Dylan screws up his brows in a glare and shakes his head. He reaches for his glass of water and takes a deep bracing swallow, only to nearly spit it out at the sound of Tazer’s softly murmured, “Mmmm.” 

“What have you done to me?” Dylan whispers furiously on the bus. 

“I fuckin’ told you,” Alex whispers back. “I am not crazy!” 

Dylan groans with his head in his palms. “I can’t unsee it.” 

“Because I’m right and you’re not dumb!” 

Dylan glares at him. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, what are we going to do about it besides feel weird and voyeuristic?” 

Alex hesitates here. Dylan is one of his very best friends in the entire world. He likes to believe they have a space of no judgement. Or limited judgment. Or even if I judge you, I won’t hold it against you. He holds his breath for a long moment and then just comes out with it. If you can’t tell your friend in the space of limited judgment who can you tell? 

“IvebeentalkingtoLyndseyandshethinksweshouldgetthemtogether.” 

“I’m sorry, bro, what?” Dylan asks. “You wanna get 'em together?"

Alex shrugs weakly. “For the good of the team?” 

“You…” Dylan mutters. “Oh my god, you’re serious! How can you be serious?” 

“Kaner hasn’t scored a goal in weeks. It’s bad.” 

Dylan sighs. Their line hasn’t exactly been lighting it up like people had hoped. And there are already whispers that Arizona won the trade. 

“And he blames himself for Q getting fired,” Alex points out. 

“Don’t you think finally getting together with your soulmate would be MORE distracting and not less?” Dylan protests. “And that’s saying I believe you, which I don’t.” 

At that exact moment Tazer hurls one of the grapes he’s snacking on up into the air, and Kaner catches it in his mouth without ever taking his eyes off of the copy of Sports Illustrated he’s reading. A no-look pass. Of a food item. 

Alex raises a brow at Dylan. “You were saying?” 

Dylan slumps down in his seat, arms crossed. “Still not convinced.” 

*

Kaner asks them up to his room that night to watch tape to see what they could do better as a line, Dylan mouths ‘don’t say a word!’ behind Kaner’s back in the elevator. Alex throws up his arms in an exasperated shrug.

“You okay back there?” Kaner asks, eyeing them both weirdly. 

“Yes, yes, totally fine,” Dylan jumps in. “Good, great, excellent!” 

Kaner lets out a slightly taken-aback chuckle. “Glad to hear it.” 

When the elevator opens up onto their floor, Alex knocks Dylan with his shoulder and whispers furiously, “Dude, have some chill.” 

Kaner swipes his keycard to let them into the room. The lights are already on, like Kaner forgot to turn them off before they left the hotel. There’s soft music playing, the kind of stuff you find in a new age shop, and Dylan shoots Alex a mystified look. 

“Wouldn’t have figured this for your taste,” Dylan says as they file inside.

“It’s not.” Kaner laughs. He raises his voice to call out, “Jon, we’re watching some footage if you want to join.” 

It’s then that Alex realizes that the connecting door is open. He pokes his head inside the other room and has to bite back a smile. 

“Oh, hey, Tazer,” he says. Tazer, who’s skinned down to his tiny black boxer-briefs and standing vertically on his forearms in some yoga contortion, only grunts back. Alex coughs meaningfully in Dylan’s direction, but Dylan refuses to meet his eyes. 

“Helps him sleep,” Kaner explains as he putters around the room, lifting pillows and checking his luggage. “Shit, where did I leave that ipad? Do you guys see it anywhere?” 

“You left it over here,” Jonny calls without interrupting his flow. Alex watches him moving smoothly from one position to another with an ease borne of practice. “It’s on the desk.” 

Kaner rolls his eyes and then flaps a hand at them. “Be right back. Sit wherever.” 

“So—” Dylan tries to start up a conversation, but Alex gives him a pointed look and gestures with his head to the doorway to where Kaner’s scooped up the ipad already, passing Tazer’s and skimming an absent hand over his back. Surely Dylan will have to concede that half-naked unnecessary touching of your buddy is not normal. 

“You want me to set it up so you can watch?” Kaner asks. 

“I’m good,” Tazer calls back, barely sounding strained from where he’s arched over into a bridge, forearms still flat on the floor. He looks like a circus performer. An indecent one. 

Kaner breezes back into the room and sets up the ipad on his own desk. He has lots of good things to point out, going over exactly how they could’ve done something differently frame by frame. After a moment though, Alex realizes Dylan’s not paying attention.

Instead he’s staring at Jonny as he moves through a series of poses that could really only be described as simulated fucking. 

“What the hell…” Dylan mutters. Kaner looks up with a furrowed brow, following Dylan’s distracted gaze. He grins. 

“Jonny, you’re turning the kid on,” he calls out. 

Dylan goes scarlet. “No—I am—that wasn’t—”

Alex snickers. 

“At least put some clothes on,” Kaner continues, “it’s not just me here.” 

Tazer mutters something incomprehensible in reply that makes Kaner laugh. It’s so couple-y and cute and from the expression on Dylan’s face, Alex knows he’s won, which is the real key issue. 

*

“ ‘It’s not just me here,’” Dylan repeats dully when they’re back in their own room. “Are you sure they’re not _already_ , y’know, fucking?” 

Alex opens his mouth to reply with an immediate denial and then considers it. “Hmm.” 

He’s pretty sure they’re not. Tazer doesn’t seem like the type to mind withholding that info from the team. He has no problem expounding at length about his thoroughly embarrassing alien theories or the weird crystal body cleanse he’s done because some whacked out yogi told him to. 

“I can’t believe I’m spending my time thinking about this,” Dylan says. “I have important things to do.”

Alex crosses his arms. Dylan spent the past couple of days holed up in Alex’s apartment playing fortnight and occasionally emerging for water breaks. “What things?” 

“I—” and now it’s Dylan’s turn to stop up short. “Okay, well, if nothing’s happened by now, then maybe it shouldn’t? Maybe that’s just how they are? It’s a bromance!” 

“Don’t you see, that’s the problem. That’s what they think! It’s just a ‘bromance,’” Alex replies, putting air quotes around it. “They clearly have no idea.” 

“You’re enjoying this too much,” Dylan says, leveling him with a look.

“Who doesn’t love a romance? You homophobic now?” 

Dylan turns bright red. “No I’m not homophobic! I’m very homo—” he struggles, grasping for the right word to complete the sentence. “Pro-homo? homo-positive? Homo-yay?” 

“Wow,” Alex replies dryly. “I can see the headlines now. Budding Star Dylan Strome describes self as homo-yay.” 

“What’s the opposite of homophobic then?” 

“Being a decent human?” Alex offers. 

“I’m a very decent human,” Dylan says. “I’m an excellent human, which is why I think it’s not our place to meddle.” 

“It’s not meddling, it’s constructive er...criticism?” 

Dylan looks unimpressed. “You’re going to criticize them into getting together?”

“Well, I want to! They’re stupid.”

“A reasonable argument, to be sure.” 

* 

The thing is, they’re losing a lot of games, and Dylan’s been knocked down the depth chart while Colliton looks for an answer, and Alex really thinks he has it, and it’s a damn shame nobody can go to Tazer and yell, ‘just kiss him already!’ There’s a lot you can get away with with Tazer who is really a giant cuddly bear underneath the bouts of grumpiness and ayurvedic space mumbo jumbo. Alex has a feeling though that Tazer would not appreciate Alex just shouting it out in the middle of a timeout, which is his first instinct. 

They do not win after the timeout though, so maybe he called that one wrong. 

“Alright, let’s hear it, what’s your plan?” Dylan says glumly on the airplane as they fly back to Chicago. 

“Right now I’m mostly about yelling it at them while throwing water bottles their way, but I don’t exactly like my odds.” 

“Aphrodisiac?” Dylan suggest. 

“Not compatible with Tazer’s diet.” 

“What are you two teenies whispering about?” Duncs says, stopping by their row on his way back from the bathroom. 

“Teeth!” Alex, startled, announces on reflex, “I—uh, yours look so real!” 

Duncs gives him an odd look. “Well yeah. I still got most of ‘em. They’re not dentures.” 

“They’d be very nice dentures,” Dylan says. 

“But they’re not dentures,” Duncs replies, sounding a little put out. 

“Do you get this question a lot?” Alex asks. “You seem really fixated on dentures.” 

“I don’t have dentures!” Duncs shouts, stomping back to his seat. 

“Where did this fear of mistaken-dentures come from?” Dylan wonders aloud. “Nobody even mentioned dentures.”

“Look, this is a very weird place, filled with very weird people,” Alex answers long-sufferingly. “‘Oh, what an honor it’ll be to be on an original six team. Oh, Chicago is such a wonderful city.’ Who was here to warn us we’d be losing all the time because the captain and Kane won’t bang?” 

“You’ve really made several logical leaps there,” Dylan says. 

At just that moment, Tazer stands up in his seat and pulls off his sweatshirt, tossing it a row down to Kaner, who balls it up and uses it as a pillow against the window despite the perfectly fine one tucked into the seat-pocket in front of him. 

“Oh yeah, that’s real normal,” he replies.

Dylan raises his hands. “I’m not fighting you on that anymore, no sir. Just thinking we need a plan.” 

*

It takes them a while to come up with one and another little while to get the opportunity, but finally in Detroit, they get their chance. Their plan, such as it is, is to “prank” Tazer by ruining his bed so it can’t be slept on. Obviously, Kaner’s will be right there as a handy-dandy option, and you know, sleeping together can like, turn into stuff. Hopefully. There’s only so much a guy can do to help without it getting, y’know, weird. 

“I would argue this is _very_ weird already,” Dylan hisses. 

“I really need you to be constructive right now,” Alex replies. He’s already stolen Tazer’s room key. That was surprisingly easy. He just asked Seabs for it, and it wound up in the palm of his hand in barely two blinks of an eye. Tazer really needs to shore up those defenses. 

“I just, I dunno, feel bad about wrecking Captain I-can’t-sleep-without-my-special-wheatgerm-pillow-and-tibetan-shamans-chanting’s bed!” 

“Look, you do not want to mess with Kaner’s things, believe me. You saw how it is when you try to sit on his seat on the plane!” 

Dylan sighs and finally acquiesces. The plan is to soak the mattress in water to the point of being unusable. 

The only problem is that don’t get further than sneaking into Tazer’s room when there’s a rattle at the connecting door. 

“Kaner’s trying to break in!” Dylan nearly shrieks. He looks around frantically like he’s considering hiding six feet and three inches beneath a two foot square nightstand. 

“Shhh!” Alex hisses. He manages to tug them into the closet and get the door closed before the door flies open. What would Dylan do without him?

“How do you always manage to misplace your key?” Kaner's voice filters through to where they’re sandwiched up against Jonny’s garment bag and the hotel’s courtesy iron. The closet doors have slats wide enough to let the light in but they can’t see much beyond that. 

“This is bad, this is really, really bad,” Dylan whispers, half bent underneath the tension rod, sounding like he’s not far from hyperventilating. 

Alex digs an elbow into his ribs and whisper-yells, “Get it together!” 

Jonny snorts from somewhere else in the room. “I didn’t ‘misplace’ it, I suspect I’m getting pranked at some point. By The Cat and Stromer probably.” 

Dylan lets out a choked-out noise, and Alex claps his hands over his mouth before he can give them both away. 

“Uh, you don’t have to let them, y’know,” Kaner replies. 

Jonny laughs. “It’s fine. They’ll prank me, I’ll call them up yelling and then get them back, they’ll still be very contrite, and then I’ll buy them breakfast, and they can feel good that they got one over on their captain. It’s team bonding.” 

There’s a pronounced pause, and Alex can perfectly picture the unimpressed look on Kaner’s face. 

“What?” Jonny protests. “It works! If I learned anything from years of Shawzy, it’s best to just lean into it.” 

There’s another pause and then what sounds distinctly like kissing noises and the sound of clothes being removed. 

“What?” Alex whispers, utterly stunned inside the stupid closet. His hand drops from Dylan’s mouth. So they already _are_ together? What fuckery is this. 

“We have to get out of here,” Dylan hisses, sounding frantic. “Oh god, this is like being trapped in the closet while your parents fuck. We need to leave.” 

“How are we going to leave without them noticing, genius?” Alex hisses back.

“I don’t know!” Dylan says, straightening up to his full height and bashing his head into the tension rod. It falls out of its socket, unexpectedly dumping all of the wooden hangers onto Alex with a loud clatter. He cries out and stumbles out of the closet trying to avoid them all, while Dylan juggles with the rod trying not to spear them both with it and tumbles after him. They might as well have set off a bomb for all the stealth that was. 

And then, in the new quiet, Tazer’s garment bag hits the ground with an unceremonious thump. Icing on the cake. 

He does note that Jonny's sitting on the bed, suit jacket pushed half off his shoulders with Kaner standing between his thighs, his own shirt out of his trousers and his belt undone. So. Yeah, that’s pretty incontrovertible proof. Whoops. 

“Um,” Alex says slowly. “Hi?” 

“What the fuck?” Kaner demands. "This is a really _bad_ prank. If you were trying to scare us, you should leap out and shout 'surprise' not brain yourself with the hangers!" 

Tazer flops back on the bed, making strangled noises and it takes him and Dylan a moment to realize they haven’t sent him into a seizure with that display. Oh no, he’s laughing. Hard. 

“We were...uh...gonna steal your suit?” Alex offers weakly when the laughter has subsided, kicking at the empty garment bag. "But you got back before we could." 

“I’m still wearing it,” Tazer points out. 

“Yes uh…” Dylan says, “It was,” and here he glares at Alex, which, rude, “a stupid plan.” 

“Mmm,” Kaner says, still looking put out. 

“So you’re a thing,” Alex says, plunging ahead, because he can’t not assuage his curiosity. It’s not like he’s spent all that much time thinking about this or anything, but, really, how did he miss it?

Kaner sighs. 

Tazer, still flopped back on the bed, shoots Kaner an amused glance. “No use putting _the cat_ back in the bag. Ow!” he says, when Kaner thumps him. 

“It’s a new thing,” Kaner offers as he starts tucking his shirt back in and buttoning-up again. 

“How new?” Alex presses, ignoring Dylan’s murder-face. It’s not all that threatening. He needs to work on it. Stare in the mirror or something while he does it. 

“Uh, January 20th? Give or take?” Kaner says. He gives them a skeptic once over. “Why?”

“The night we played the Caps?” Dylan blurts out. “You got together after you had a ten point night? Are you for real?” 

Kaner doesn’t even have the good grace to look sheepish about it and Tazer starts laughing again. “Yeah, kid, I’m for real,” Kaner replies, crossing his arms. “And keep it to yourself, alright? This is one conversation I’m not yet ready to have with Patrick Sharp.” 

“Oh god,” Tazer says faintly. “I will _never_ be ready for that conversation.” 

Kaner shoots him a fond glance and then looks back at them both, still standing the wreckage of Tazer’s closet. “Get out, will you?” 

“Yup! Yes! Of course!” They trip over themselves to say, turning around and heading for the door without a backwards glance. 

“Key!” Tazer calls after them, and Alex runs back and hastily sets it on the desk before chasing after Dylan.

*

“I hate you,” Dylan says, over the milkshake he made Alex buy him. 

“But see, my theory is right! Look at all this winning,” Alex replies, expansively. “We’ve only lost once! ONE TIME! Since they got together.” He pauses meaningfully. “I’m a genius.” 

“You’re not a genius, they did it all on their own,” Dylan grumps back, slurping hard on his straw. 

“Yeah well, if you’d listened to me sooner, maybe we could’ve sped up the timeline.” 

“How?” Dylan replies darkly. “They got boners for each other because they scored ten points.” 

“I—” Alex stops. Yes, well, perhaps he has no argument for that one. The soak-Tazer’s-bed plan seems laughable now. He’d probably just ask for another room assignment. Or, with their luck, try to bunk in with Kruger. 

“That was so embarrassing, man,” Dylan repeats. “I told Davo I was happy to be here. Now I’m considering fleeing across the border to Edmonton to join him in that hellhole and wearing a full face-cage so they never realize it’s me.” 

“I don’t think that’s a very good plan,” Alex points out. “They could still read your jersey, and Don Cherry would probably turn up and be like 'LOOK AT DYLAN STROME IN A FULL FACE CAGE FOR NO REASON,' and also you are kinda tall—” 

“Well it’s better than any of your plans,” Dylan raises his voice over Alex. “I still hate you.” 

“No you don’t,” Alex replies with a smile. “Drink your milkshake and enjoy the winning.”


End file.
